


Catching the Fallen

by Pi (Rhea)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A "Ron is a death eater" fic written in coordination with Casserole, making this a Noctem Kitchen Pastry Production. Written 2006-2007<br/>has not been betaed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching the Fallen

**Prologue**

_Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend._

_Albert Camus_

The skies were dark slate gray of rain clouds. The fine rain filtered down to the procession moving through the graveyard and gathering around a pair of tombstones to pay their last respects. One young woman knelt in front of the set of tombstones, reaching out a hand to caress her mothers and fathers names forever etched in stone; her bushy hair dampened by the rain. Two people separated from the thinning crowd to kneel down beside her.

“Come on,” said the boy with pale blond hair, “let’s go back to our house, people are leaving, you really shouldn’t dwell on it.” His voice was concerned and gentle.

“Yeah.” said the black haired boy, smiling slightly from her other side. “We were married here, remember?” he said, speaking over the girls head to the other young man. This coaxed the tinniest of smiles out of the girl.

“That’s it.” The blond one said, “Let’s go.”

They helped her up and she walked with them back through the graveyard. They were followed by another young man, forgotten in the crowd of black. His red hair held him apart in the black, but it was not enough to catch the attention of the leaving three even though he followed them all the way to the parking lot. He stood on the church steps in rain and watched the silver car pull away and out into the slick gray rain filled city.

**One**

**Meeting**

_It's choice - not chance - that determines your destiny._

_Jean Nidetch_

The boy in the rain stood there for a minute, looking out over the street to the closed shops on the other side. Then he walked to his own car. He pulled out his keys and climbed in, flicking the windshield wipers on to usher the rain away from his line of sight, like little teacups trying to turn the tide they struggled against the rain which increased as he drove further. It was getting darker as the world turned toward evening and with the skies so over hung with clouds it might have been night in that rainy city.

It was at least seven by the time he pulled up in front of an apartment building. He turned off the radio, which he had only bothered to flick on to assuage the oppressive silence. It was playing off-station fuzz. He hadn’t bothered to tune it. Sound was sometimes all he needed these days. The old elevator took him solitarily up to his floor; it didn’t even bother to ping for him. He had known it had been broken, but it only convinced him of the invisibility he had been feeling.

His apartment was 203, his keys reemerged and he let himself into the quiet dark. He made his way through it to the kitchen where he flipped on the light. It buzzed into sharp electricity, piercing his eyes. The little light that told him he had messages was not blinking on the phone, it hadn’t in weeks. He opened the refrigerator and reached to the back for his left over take out. He had picked it up at lunch, the girl behind the counter had smiled at him and asked how he was, hoped that he would have a nice day. It was part of her job, he was sure, but it still felt good to hear someone say “How are you today?” even if they didn’t bother to listen to the answer.

His friends hadn’t bothered to do that in a while. He wondered if he really knew them any more. It made his heart ache. He had been so close with them. Then they had all left school, moved on, and met new people. He was the only one who seemed unable to find himself someone, anyone, to care about him. And they didn’t appear to need him anymore. Even when he showed up they didn’t care. No one had noticed at the funeral today even though he had been there. He hadn’t had the time to make it close enough to offer comfort. But they didn’t need him any ways. They all had each other. He was the odd one out, the fourth wheel to the little threesome. He felt himself getting angry, he always did. His friends had abandoned him and in his place, in a way, was _that_ twerp. But maybe that was the way they had always wanted it, maybe they had just been waiting to get out of school so they could ditch him. Maybe… He had to stop thinking, it hurt too much.

The microwave pinged; telling him the food was warm and ready. But he wasn’t, he continued staring out the window, though all he could see was his reflection in the glass, pale skin and dark holes for eyes, lank red hair, still wet sticking to his neck and dividing into little locks. He flicked off one of the lights so his reflection faded to just the faintest hint of a ghost, just the way he felt. He pulled open the microwave and put the food on the table, watching it steam, tendrils curling up to engulf him, smothering him in their smell, making him feel warm for the first time that rainy afternoon. Then the doorbell rang.

He walked to the door, looking out the peephole, but he couldn’t see anyone. He opened the door and looked to the left, no one. He looked to the right, and found himself face to face with a young man of about 15 years holding a pizza box. The boy smiled.

“Nice night, huh?” the kid said, making small talk.

“A bit rainy and dreary, but nice.” He agreed.

“Never a better time for pizza.” The kid smiled.

“Yeah, I should have thought of that.” He nodded to the kid. The kid got an annoyed look.

“You mean you didn’t order this?” he frowned a little, concentrating on reading the name on his sheet. “Your not, Leo Flynn?”

“Nope.” The man shook his head, “I’m Ron Weasley.” he smiled a little, “You must have the wrong address. I think Leo’s two over.”

“Oh, thanks. You could have told me earlier! What a waste of time. I’m on a schedule you know!” the boy spun on his heel and stalked off down the corridor. Ron watched him go till the boy turned the corner. Then he sighed and relocked the door, going back to his own, now cold, dinner.

Ron contemplated the dinner a bit. But he decided he really wasn’t hungry. And the takeout was now cold. He walked over to the phone, thinking of calling his best friend, or the person who that had once been. He flipped through his book of phone numbers. Only an eighth full, but the number for the new house was towards the back, he hadn’t memorized it yet. He scanned the pages till he found it:

_Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy_

_1178 E Blackwell Ave._

_781-9732_

He picked up the phone and dialed it in, a message machine picked up “ _Hello you’ve reached the home of Harry and Draco, we’re ou-_ ” he hung up. They never picked up. It was Harry’s process of screening telemarketers. Telemarketers all hung up, like Ron just did, before the message bit. Ron however thought that it might be nice once to actually be able to talk to another human being who appreciated him. Sometimes he felt that if anybody took notice of him, he would be their friend. He thought about calling his other best friend, Hermione. But the funeral he had just attended had been her parents. She probably would want to talk to anyone at the moment. He wasn’t even sure if she was at home. He paced around his living room, trying to keep from sinking into the depression he felt welling up around him. _I will call Harry_. He thought. But this time he only managed to dial the number and wait through one ring. He never even got the message machine.

Ron grabbed his coat and the house keys, flicking off the light in the kitchen and plunging the house back into darkness. He took the stairs rather then the elevator, finding himself moments later on the sidewalk he decided to walk to the park. It wasn’t raining any more. There might be some brave soul there, though it was highly unlikely.

The night air was cool and refreshed from the rain. It was almost beautiful. The sky was black and the lights in the windows glowed their warm way out onto the streets, dappling the dark sidewalk in between the streetlights in flushes of gold. He walked among them as if through trees, winding his way through the suburbia of his neighbor hood, the houses and closed little stores, their neon signs turned off for the night.

The park was darker, as it was away from the honey windows and the streetlights. But it was peaceful, empty all but for one person, wrapped in a coat, hood up against the cool night air. Ron made his way across the play ground between the jungle gym and swings to the bench, the only one in the park. He hoped the stranger wouldn’t mind. He took up a seat on the far side and leaned back so he could stare up at the non-existent stars.

Silence reigned and Ron relaxed in it, letting it wash away his worries and anger. Or, at least he tried. Letting go was harder then he thought. And he didn’t know he had spoken out loud till the stranger answered him in a deep, soft voice.

“I know how you feel.”

“Huh?” Ron turned his eyes from the black clouds to the person.

“To be ignored and forgotten by your friends, forsaken. As if they thought you dead.”

“Yeah, dead. Maybe that’s what I am.” Ron mused. “You feel that way too?”

“I did for a long time. I understand. It helps to talk you know. If you want, you can tell me.”

“Do you know how good it is to have someone actually notice you?” the stranger did not reply, stayed silent, waiting, listening.

“I just get so pissed sometimes. It’s as if I don’t exist anymore. Like as soon as he got lover-boy, I was history. No loyalty to “best friends”. And they all pride him on that. And her! She just goes along with it. In fact, she likes the new guy. So it’s them, the golden threesome. It used to be the three of us in the good old days. I thought it wasn’t too bad. I was the sidekick to most people, but we were there for each other. Now they don’t even bother to remember. I’m just one of the millions. One face in the sea of faces and they don’t bother to look for me! They might at least call! But no, they’re to busy with their busy complicated lives. No, they “envy” me when they see me without attachments or steady work to hold me down. Like I like that! I grovel down among the working class of normal shlucks so I can get my pay and I must have _so_ may friends. Yes, and if I don’t well, that’s good too because I don’t have any of those obligations. And of course I’m still _their_ friend, even if they never bother to acknowledge me. Yeah right. I hate them sometimes. I really do. It’s not really her fault though. It’s all his. He’s the one who had to go be famous. Famous people can’t be friends with little nothings, no matter if they were partners in crime or not. No one mentions Ron in all the great adventures! No it’s Golden Boy Harry and his friends. I really hate him. I do. I Hate Harry!”

Ron didn’t even realize he had gotten so worked up till he stopped yelling and heard the echoes bouncing back from across the park. He felt a little chagrined. But it was good to get all that anger out of his system. Did, he really hate Harry? Not really, but he got so pissed sometimes. He sat down and breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself back down. The night regained its stillness and the stranger sat beside him companionably as if waiting to see if he was truly done. Ron could have kissed the cloaked head for listening, waiting, bothering to care. They might have been asleep. He couldn’t see their face. But they hadn’t stopped him, and they hadn’t walked away.

“Thanks for listening.” Ron said, quietly, calm regained.

“No problem. Any time you need. It, as I said, I know exactly how you feel. I just didn’t have anyone to vent it to. It would have helped. I like listening. It makes me feel less alone anyways.”

Ron blinked at the stranger. Could they be another lonely person just like him? He was feeling rather bold, supported by his excess energy from the rant he said,

“Would you like to get together and have a drink sometime?”

“That would be great. In fact, I know a nice little place by the name of the ‘Wand and Spell’. It’s in Diagon Alley.”

“Wait, you’re a wizard?” Ron was startled to say the least, a little wary. Did this man tell all people he met about wizards? Wasn’t that a little…

“Yes, and no I don’t go around telling everyone.” The voice sounded like the speaker was smiling “you expression is very amusing. I recognized the hair. A Weasley right?”

“Ron. Ron Weasley.” Ron held out his hand to the stranger.

“Tom. Tom Riddle.” The man took his hand. It was cold, but not abnormally so, the night was making Ron’s fingers numb as well. The name seemed to tug at a faint memory. But he couldn’t place it. Where had he heard of this person before?

“Did you, by chance, attend Hogwarts?”

“I did.”

Ron smiled, that’s why he recognized the name. “That’s it then, we must have been same year, or there about. What house?”

“Slytherin.”

“And that’s why I don’t remember you well.”

“I knew your sister.” Tom supplied, his tone of one trying to be helpful. Ron felt a pang in his stomach. He looked at the ground, collecting himself around his next words.

“She’s dead.” There was a pause; Ron wondered what Tom was thinking.

“Oh I so sorry.” he said at last. “She was a wonderful girl. She helped me when I needed it, even though my friends had abandoned me.”

Ron didn’t answer for a bit, _probably one of her boyfriends, she had so many_. “You must be a good person for her to like you. She always was helpful to everybody, no matter whom…” Ron paused again, and then decided to ask. “Do you want to have that drink sometime this weekend?”

Tom thought a moment “I’m free Sunday.”

“Great. I have to go, but I’ll see you then?”

“Sure.” Tom agreed. Ron nodded to Tom, and then left for home. Maybe he was hungry after all.

 

**Two**

**Fireside**

_"The better part of one's life consists of his friendships."_

  


  
__  
_\- Abraham Lincoln_   


  


  
__

The fire cast a warm glow into the room, making it feel cozy and warm despite the rain falling outside. Big cushy chairs were set around the fire, the focal point of the room. One of them was taken up by two young men, arms and legs happily intertwined, contentedly resting against each other and back into the comfortable overstuffed cushy-ness of the chair. The other chair was occupied by a young woman of their same age, her face was still slightly damp and her hair was less so, but not it’s normal bushy state, and she had a little orange kitten on her lap, playfully batting at that not-so-bushy hair. She looked up from the kitten and there was a soft smile on her lips.

“She reminds me of Crookshanks.”

“She has a similar attitude too.” The blond haired boy replied.

The boy with black hair and his arms wrapped around the blond smiled, remembering Crookshanks, Hermione’s old cat.

“Remember when she attacked you while you were sleeping on the back porch when we stayed at Hermione’s house that summer?”

“I remember,” The girl with the orange kitten smiled wider “Probably a good thing, you would have gotten a worse sun burn if you had stayed out there any longer!”

“I fell asleep!” the blond protested.

“Yeah right, Draco. You were just trying to find a way to convince me to give you that sunburn cream stuff.” Harry laughed

“I was not. I really did doze off.” Draco protested, sticking out his lip in a pretend pout that made Harry smile.

“You two told me there was nothing going on between you when you first showed up at the summer house. But I could tell!” Hermione grinned. “Harry’s never been very good at hiding his feelings.”

“We weren’t together.” Harry protested.

“Well, walking in on you two erased any doubts from my mind.” Hermione smirked slightly, “you certainly didn’t take long if you weren’t together when you arrived.” Harry’s face went bright red in a blush, even after being with Draco for five years he was still prone to blushing.

“Of course it didn’t take long. With me on his tail how could he?” Draco snickered, enjoying the color of his beloved’s face.

“Oh yes I’m sure, how could Harry not submit to your prowess on sight and prostrate himself at your feet.” Hermione quirked an eyebrow, her smile twitching at her lips that she was in-vainly trying to keep straight.

“Oh, well, that was part of it. My immense sexiness might have something to do with that. All though I’d much rather had him prostrate on my-”

“Draco!” Harry’s face was a bright red indeed. Some people might have mistaken him for being a tomato, if you subtracted the eyes, glasses, and hair of course. “What was I supposed to do when you showed up on my doorstep? I didn’t know you liked me. I thought you were just running from Voldemort.”

“My enemy’s enemy is my friend, as the saying goes.” Draco offered.

“Is that all I am to you?” Harry pulled sad puppy-dog face. Draco laughed at his antics, leaning back further into the chair and resting his head against Harry’s neck and titling it back to see Harry’s amused face.

“Of course not.” He said moving slightly upward as Harry’s head came down towards his, lips slightly parted.

“Ahem.” Hermione called their attention back from eye locked marital sappiness.

“Right, well anyways,” said Draco moving his head to look at her, still resting back against Harry, “Was I supposed to tell you everything? A guy can have his secrets, right”

Hermione shook her head, “didn’t stay a secret for long. Either it wasn’t much of one to begin with, or you two flaunt it a bit too much.”

“Envious of our happy marriage?” Draco prodded with a devilish grin. Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but then subsided. Silence fell over the room, the kitten took this to be a cue to settle down and take a nap.

“I wonder how Ron is doing.” Hermione said eventually, bringing the conversation back. Harry thought a moment, he hadn’t heard from Ron in a while.

“Maybe we should call him. I think he was supposed to be there today, I didn’t see him.” Harry stood up and extricated himself from Draco who sighed and snuggled back into the chair, soaking up the warmth in Harry’s wake. The phone was on a table in the hall by the living room. Harry picked up the portable and brought it back, dialing as he came. He held it to his ear and waited while it rang. On the tenth ring he gave up.

“It’s always like this. He’s never around anymore. I hardly ever hear from him.” Draco reached for him, pulling him back down in the chair.

“I’m sure Ron’s alright. He’d call us if something was wrong. He knows our number right?”

“Yes.” Harry admitted. “I worry sometimes I guess.”

“It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“Yeah right.”

“Awe come on, don’t you believe me?”

Hermione watched their banter. They really were like an old married couple sometimes. Except that as she watched they began leaning closer to each other, it was like two magnets. She decided to let them be. She pulled herself out of the chairs deep embrace, kitten protesting sleepily at the movement, and took herself off to bed.

 

**Three**

**Friends**

_I've learned that all a person has in life is family and friends. If you lose those, you have nothing, so friends are to be treasured more than anything else in the world._

_Trey Parker and Matt Stone_

Ron smiled as he walked down Diagon Alley. He hadn’t been to the Wand and Spell before, but he was looking forward to it. His eyes scanned the lines of shops, looking for it. He spotted it and went that way. When he pushed open the door, warm air rushed out to greet him. The place was a restaurant and bar like so many places these days, so the air had a thin layer of smoke. The lighting was dim, but light enough for people to see their food. It wasn’t a rowdy place. Not all that many people occupied tables or the long slab of marble bar-top. There was one form he recognized however, a man cloaked and sitting, looking out the window, from his stool at the bar, as if waiting.

Ron walked over to him. “Tom.” He called to the others wandering mind.

The man jumped a bit, startled “Oh you’re here! I was so busy looking in the other direction for you, I completely missed you come in. Rather silly, I should have been watching the door.” The woman who manned the bar came over offering them two mugs of some of the “House Special” Tom thanked her warmly and paid for it, picking up his glass. Ron looked at it slightly suspiciously, but Tom tilted his back and took a swig.

“Go on, try it. It hasn’t killed me yet and I’ve been drinking it years.” Ron put the mug to his lips, still cautious. But as soon as he swallowed he forgot that. The stuff was warm. It sent a happy buzz through his lips and stomach; it seemed to leave a lining of velvet on his throat. It was sweet too, but not saccharine. The mix of flavors swilled over his tongue as he tried to decipher them.

“This is good. How’d you find this place?”

“A…” Tom thought a moment, “good friend showed it to me, a long time ago.” Tom leaned back on the bar stool as if it was a chair with a back, rather then air. “I haven’t heard from him in a long time.” He mused rather sadly it seemed to Ron.

“Same with me. I haven’t heard from anyone in ages.” Ron nodded, the drink was making him warm and drowsy and he wasn’t getting so angry thinking of his friends, sad. He sighed. Tom nodded along with him.

“Why don’t we get another drink?” Tom offered. Ron agreed. The stuff here was good so far. Tom put out another pair of coins on the counter and the woman returned with another set of drinks.

“This aught to put some cheer in to gloomy fellows like yerselves.” She winked with a smile. Tom shook his head in resignation.

“Lady ‘Juliet’. She’s been working here for as long as I can remember. Doesn’t talk much to most people, but she’s nice to those she knows. Seems to like you though, don’t she?” Ron didn’t blush; the mug hid his face anyhow. He downed half the glass in almost one gulp. It made him feel more alive, like he could do anything or say anything.

“Easy there, you don’t wanna have to be going back for more so soon do you?” Lady Juliet teased as she passed by them to two patrons on the other side of the bar.

An hour later Ron was feeling quiet happy and sleepy too, he was also probably on his fifth drink, though Tom didn’t seem to mind. They were nursing their last mugs down to the dregs slowly, savoring the last little bits. The bar was almost empty now. Only one person was left, at the far end of the room, cup of coffee and Daily Prophet on the table, doing a crossword puzzle. The hour was late and the candles were burning down to the last bit of wick in their little glasses on the tables.

Tom’s voice called him back from his candle contemplation. “That’s the tragedy of my life. No one ever understands me.” Tom studied his hands, they were pale and the fingers were long and slender, like spiders maybe. Ron wondered what the face looked like under that hood. But he understood. People looked at you and the assumed, misunderstood. Ron was not one to judge; he had learned it the hard way from the other side.

“I understand you.” Ron said smiling a little, “you’re my friend; I am true to my friend’s. Any friend of mine has my loyalty.”

“Even me?” Tom’s voice was so hopeful Ron couldn’t help it but grin; he really did have a friend.

“Of course, you’re my friend. Maybe my only friend. All the others have abandoned me so you’re it.”

“I’ll never abandon you, it hurts too much. Will you always be my friend?”

“Yes.” Ron smiled, and then jokingly remembered something from his early Hogwarts days. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” He held out his pinkie in the Muggle way. It was a sweet gesture and had always made him smile when Hermione had done it.

“My friends are very special people.” Tom held out his pinkie. “I think you’re one of them.” They locked pinkies and Ron grinned broader. He had a friend.

 

**Four**

**Hangovers**

_Electricity is actually made up of extremely tiny particles called electrons, that you cannot see with the naked eye unless you have been drinking._

_Dave Barry_

Breakfast was a flurry of people rushing around the next morning. Harry was getting ready for; Draco was keeping slightly out of the way, making his own slow preparations to leave. He went to work slightly later then Harry. Harry wasn’t an Auror, at least not all the time. He worked as a Ministry handyman. He was loosely affiliated with the Department of Mysteries and the Aurors, sort of a bridge between the two. He ran the Order, which had now been incorporated into the Ministry under the Mysteries Department, in the wake of Dumbledore’s death. Draco ran a small shop in Diagon Alley, not too far from where their house was. He incorporated his love of Quidditch and quality, interesting things along with his aesthetic sensibilities into a shop that sold Art and Antiques; most of them revolving around Quidditch. He had found many perverse ways to tease Harry with comments about his job. Harry did have a habit of turning a lovely shade of pink.

Hermione was eating cereal and reading the paper. Her expression was slightly exasperated and she kept sighing and shifting. Finally she stood up and put her bowl in the dishwasher, before grabbing her coat and a pair of house keys, and taking off out the front door. Harry looked up from where he was putting on his tie in the mirror above the kitchen sink and at the same time washing greens for dinner that night.

“Should I go after her? She seemed rather bothered?”

“Leave her be. She needs her space.” Draco smiled a bit before going back to the book he was reading. Harry nodded, taking the colander out of the sink and dumping the greens into a pan and turning on the stove.

“Make sure they don’t burn, and take them off the stove at about 9:10 will you?” he asked. Draco waved a finger in recognition and Harry dropped a quick kiss on his cheek before taking off out the door.

Hermione pulled the bike out of the garage and wheeled out down the drive. It actually wasn’t hers; Draco had bought it when he had first rented the space for the shop. Since it was so close he thought he might ride. He hadn’t counted on Muggle transportation being so good. So the bike was basically unused, until Hermione had adopted it.

She coasted down the driveway and out onto the street. She felt the wind ruffling their hair where it escaped from her helmet. She rode aimlessly following the winding streets and avenues. She had no intention of going anywhere, but she found herself winding down familiar streets. And eventually an apartment complex came into view that she knew quiet well. Hermione decided to drop in on her friend. She parked the bike, leaning it up against the building and took the elevator to Ron’s floor.

She tried the door of the apartment, it was open. She wondered why Ron had left his door open.

“Hello?” She called, but there was no answer so she stepped over the threshold. The apartment she entered was not how she had imagined it, nor how it had been the last time she had visited. It was much dirtier. Things were not put away, books lay out, there were a few socks on the floor, in fact it looked rather like the boys dorm back in their Hogwarts days, and if she didn’t know better she would have thought this was the apartment of a teenage boy. She called again and this time there was a muffled reply. She followed the sound to its source.

Ron was crashed on his bed. Hermione could tell from the door that he wasn’t doing well. She approached the bed cautiously.

“Ron you look horrible.” She commented, and it was true. He rolled to face her. She put a hand on his forehead to check for a fever or other sign of sickness causing him to look so hung-over. But a hangover was what it was and no sickness could be blamed.

“I went to a bar with a friend.” Ron gargled, squinting against the light in the room, which wasn’t all that much.

“And had too much to drink.” Hermione shook her head, sighing, “When will you ever learn sense?” Hermione felt an odd sense of pity. This Ron lying in bed with a hangover reminded her much of the Ron just after Hogwarts. She hadn’t seen him that much after that. But he had gotten out of this cycle, or so she had thought.

“Poor Ron.” She murmured allowed, not even registering that her mouth and mind were moving together. “Is it really that bad?” His reply was a not-so-melodramatic answer to her question.

“Leave me alone to die in piece.”

Hermione did leave the room, but only for a moment. She got a washcloth and dampened it with cold water, then came back to place it on Ron’s foreheads. If her memory was correct this would help a hangover, or headache for that matter.

“Feel any better?”

“No” came the sullen reply. Hermione shook her head exasperated and drew out her wand. She knew a sober up spell and Ron was being so pathetic at the moment that her heart just went out to him and she couldn’t stop herself from sighing and performing the little whisk of the wand.

“Next time, don’t drink so much. A hangover doesn’t suit you.” Ron murmured something like ‘thank you’ or ‘bless you’ or something that ended in “you”. Hermione just wasn’t sure if she had heard what she thought she had, so she decided that ‘thank you’ was probably what Ron had said, or at least meant. He couldn’t have actually murmured ‘love you’. But he was asleep and Hermione decided that she probably aught to go back to the house before too long. She quietly closed the door and left the building, picking up her bike for the ride home.

**Five**

**Dinner**

_Go often to the house of thy friend; for weeds soon choke up the unused path._

_Scandinavian Proverb_

Harry put the last glass dish out on the table hollered for anyone in the house, or vicinity there of, who could hear his voice and had any remote interest in dinner to get down here so he at least could have some. There was a clatter on the stairs and Draco appeared.

“You called?” he smiled and took a seat Harry grabbed the chair beside him and started piling things on his plate. Draco had the grace to hold his hunger till Hermione emerged from the basement; her room where she was staying was down there. The basement in Harry and Draco’s house was actually quite nice. It had a thick carpet and a fireplace and a couch and TV and a bathroom, and a small little bedroom furnished with bed, desk and closet. Hermione and Draco then served themselves and everyone said a quick prayer, Harry included, in the fact that he sat down his fork and held still for a moment, before reaching for the water to pour himself a glass.

For a few moments everyone chewed in silence. Then Draco offered a “complements to the chef” and Harry batted at him because they had both made the meal together. And then Hermione brought the attention back to herself by quietly saying.

“I talked to Ron today.” Harry and Draco turned to look at her, watched as she pushed peas around on her plate with her fork, waiting. Hermione didn’t continue so Draco tried,

“So how’s lover-boy doing?” he knew she had somewhat of a crush on Ron, Harry was more clueless, though he was not thickheaded enough to completely miss it. Hermione didn’t rise to the bait, just flicked her eyes to Draco, then back down to the immensely interesting peas on her plate. Draco looked at Harry and the two traded an ‘uh-oh’ look before Draco prodded a little more, seriously this time.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s not well. His apartment’s a mess and he had a hangover.” Hermione told her plate.

“But I thought he didn’t drink much, he stopped after that first year, decided he was worth something, made a “better life” for himself, didn’t he?” Harry’s voice was part statement part question and all around confused.

“Well, he does now, back to it I guess.” Hermione seemed even glummer, if that was possible.

Draco opened his mouth, his lips smirking slightly, but closed it with a snap when Harry elbowed him sharply.

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad!” he pouted. Harry just raised an eyebrow.

“I could tell by your expression- I have lived with you for the last five years.”

“You know me too well.” Draco groused, making Harry smile.

“I make it a habit” Draco returned the smile at that, leaning closer to his husband in a telling way,

“Nice to know you care.”

Hermione watched to two and knew if she didn’t intervene dinner might be just one drawn out snogging session, she hadn’t lived with the two of them but she too knew them well enough. She coughed, but to her disgruntlement they only turned and said “God Bless You” in unison before going back to the mushy-eyed, soon-to-be-lip-locked, gazing.

Hermione cleared her throat again “There are minors in the room.”

“Who?” asked a slightly dazed and rather puzzled Harry.

“The kitten.” Hermione pointed at the fur ball curled up on the empty chair. Draco smiled, sliding his hand around Harry’s neck to draw the boy closer to him.

“The kitten sleeps in our room; I don’t think she minds one bit.” Draco added a little purr to his voice, sending a look to Harry. Hermione watched as Harry’s face darkened to a very red beet. Partly from Draco’s words, partly from his tone, and partly from the hand stroking the back of his neck. Hermione giggled at them a bit and Harry went even redder, burring his face in Draco’s shoulder.

Hermione watched them and her mind quickly wandered down the path of her original contemplation. Her smile began to fade. Draco noticed; his voice was very gentle as he called over the silence.

“Don’t worry; I’m sure he’s fine.” Hermione nodded a bit but she still wasn’t completely at ease.

“I can’t help it,” she bit her lip, looking back at her untouched plate; “he used to be so close to us.”

 

**Six**

**Burning**

_There is no fear there is power_

_There is no death there is immortality_

_There is no weakness there is the Dark Side_

_I am the heart of darkness_

_I know no fear_

_Dark Jedi Code_

Ron woke up later that night. He had slept almost the whole day, and now he was wide awake, and very distressed.

“How could I let her see me like that?” he bemoaned, remembering that morning. Not only had he been rude, but he had been drunk, and stupid, and must have looked a wreck. “I’ll never drink that much again! She must hate me, or think I’m some moronic imbecile.” _Maybe you are._ A small part of his mind sneered at him. He shook it off.

“How can I show her I’m not like this?” Ron paused in his pacing of the small apartment living room. “She’s Harry’s good friend still, what is it about Harry that everybody likes? It’s not fair, why should he have all the friends!?” but then _that’s it, all the friends!_ Ron came to a conclusion.

“If I’m as powerful as Harry, I’d have more friends, that’d show her I’m worth it. Well, I have one friend now. And he seems like the type to know people. Once I have more friends Hermione will like me better.”

Ron found the card the man had given him on the coffee table and walked over to the telephone to dial in the number.

“Hello?” said a voice on the other end.

“Hi Tom, it’s Ron.”

“Oh, hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay, well…”

“Yes?” Tom inquired.

“You see, you sound like a pretty knowledgeable person, do you know how I can have more power then Harry?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Tom paused for a moment as if considering something. “You may not think it, but I am very powerful. I can give you power.”

“Really?” Ron was surprised, by the statement, and the offer.

“Would you like to become one of my chosen?” Tom offered, waiting. Ron nodded almost immediately, but took a few moments of thought before agreeing verbally. He would meet Tom at the park in a few moments.

Ron arrived at the park just in time to see Tom coming from the other direction. Ron waved Tom over and the wizard approached him.

“We have to go somewhere else.” Tom murmured, as if trying not to be overheard, though there was no one else there. It made Ron feel as if he was in on a big secret. His body thrilled with the sense of adventure, his adrenalin suddenly kicking into gear.

Tom took an ordinary looking item, a newspaper, out from under his cloak. He held it out. Ron looked at him quizzically so the man explained,

“Portkey.” Ron was confused still, where were they going. But he trusted Tom, so he grabbed the other end, and instantly felt a jerk behind his navel. His feet knocked together as the playground disappeared…And was replaced, by a graveyard.

Ron looked around as soon as he was fully under his own steam power and the ground was firmly planted under his feet. Old headstones were scattered around, weeds grew up around them the place had a feeling of un-use to it. Ron turned to Tom, but Tom was no longer beside him. Instead he was standing over a grave, a few feet away.

“My father is buried here.” Tom whispered. Ron didn’t speak, it hurt to lose someone. Family especially…Ginny.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Don’t be.” Tom said; his voice held mixed emotions, anger and sorrow. “He was one of those people who didn’t…understand.”

“Well, I’m sorry for that then.” Ron offered.

“Thank you.” Tom murmured back, tracing his long white fingers along a thin crack that ran from head to base of the headstone. Suddenly he turned to look at Ron, his hood hid his face still, but Ron could feel the intensity of the gaze. He held it and stared back, head cocked to the side with a questioning expression.

“Will you be one of my chosen?” Tom asked, his voice was harsher then Ron had heard it before, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“And it will make me powerful?”

“Exceeding powerful- my chosen are some of the most powerful wizards in the world.”

“I will become one of your chosen.”

For a moment nothing moved. Not even a blade of grass stirred in that place, it was as if the dead that surrounded them were for once, holding their collective breath in lifeless lungs. Ron was frozen, but not with fear or terror, no he felt more a sensation of exaltation, as if the most important event ever to happen was about to take place. Then Tom drew back his hood.

And his face was not unpleasant, though pale, it had highly arched cheekbones and aristocratic eyebrows, the nose was a little small and the nostrils were slit thin, but it fit in with the cold thin lips that looked as if they hardly ever saw a smile, but if they did either it would be hideous, or a joy to watch. All this combined into an aesthetic beauty that captivated all who looked upon it, but what stopped Ron, was the eyes. They were like rubies, or drops of warm live blood. Pure red with cat-slit pupils, Ron wondered how Tom had come by them, were they natural, or some effect of magic. Their color seemed to capture him up, it swirled around him and he could not move. He was transfixed by it. It was an amazing feeling, close to euphoria but different all together. Not like the loyalty he felt to Harry, nor the strong aching feeling that made his throat close up and his heart flutter when he neared Hermione, but something completely different, the will to please and be perfect, power and submission, the ability to claim one had a part in something big, belonging as he had never felt before.

And then came the pain. It seared across all these feelings like a hot brand searing into flesh. Ron gritted his teeth against the scream clawing its way up his throat. He clenched down, his muscles tightening, and the pain intensified for one harsh throbbing minute till he thought that he would die or pass out from it, and then was gone. Ron opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was those red eyes, and the slight smile that lay beneath them. Then he looked down, down to the hand. And in that hand was a brand, a brand he had seen pictures of, but never actually believed to see in person. He looked from the brand to the eyes and back to the brand.

“Yes Ron Weasley, it is I. But does that change anything, I am your friend. And you are branded as one of mine. I will not forget you kindness, nor your courage, and you shall be rewarded if you are as true to your true friends as you claim.” Ron looked from the brand to his arm. The mark there made his skin crawl, black and ugly and menacing. His knees gave out and he sank to the ground in a daze of confusion.

“Are you sure he’s good enough my Lord?” came a voice from behind him. Ron turned slowly, still kneeling to see that he was surrounded by black cloaked people, but the voice that spoke he recognized. His father’s greatest enemy, Lucius Malfoy.

“Of course, I choose wisely do I not?” the question had a hint of a threat in it and Ron knew that anyone with sense would not defy that voice. Ron valued himself as a man of sense. Now he wondered how he had ever gotten himself into this situation.

Ron pushed himself off the ground, careful not to wobble too obviously.

“I’m good enough.”

“Ron is a very special person. I would not have chosen him otherwise” Tom, no Voldemort, declared, as if to ask anyone to challenge that opinion. He turned to Ron, “Go home, good follower. You will feel it when I call for you.”

Ron went back to his apartment and immediately crashed on his bed, not bothering to take off his shoes. He felt almost as if he had just gone out drinking again except he was more spent tired and allover achy then hangover feeling.

 

**Seven**

**Command**

_The shaft of the arrow had been feathered with one of the eagle's own plumes. We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction._

_Aesop_

Ron had two uneventful days after that day at the grave yard. It was almost as if it had all been a dream, except for the stark brooding black mark on his arm. It was this mark that roused him from his dream-like existence and spurred him to action two days later. He had thought that pain was something he knew about, broken bones and scraped knees. But this was much worse. Like the pain of the original branding, but without the antidote of Voldemort’s eyes or any other numbing to take the edge off the pain. Ron understood the call completely and immediately dissipated though he hardly ever bothered to travel that way, with a car and his feet he was usually good. But now he appeared immediately at Voldemort’s side.

There were a few Death Eaters present when He arrived, but he was not the last, two more came after him. He felt a little out of place among their ranks, but he stood tall and proud, a façade really but he made himself believe.

The conversation, what there was of one, confused Ron at first. But eventually he got the idea. They were planning a last attack. Ron stayed silent, listening, not knowing how, or if, to offer his help. He was forcefully pulled into the conversation by Lucius Malfoy.

“Are you sure we should have him here, listening like this. Are you sure we can trust him my Lord? He might be a spy. You remember Snape, my Lord?” The sentence hung in the air, stinging Ron with its little taunting barb. Like bees and a bear. Ron would show them, he was trustworthy, he was _worthy_.

“I’m good enough, I’ll prove it!” He lifted his chin, challenging anyone to deny him.

“Good.” Voldemort’s voice was smooth and almost had a purr to it. Ron felt a shiver. “One of the greatest problems in our way is Potter. You know him and are close to him. Illuminate him from our list.” The words were an undeniable command. But Ron couldn’t do that. He couldn’t kill Harry. He was a loyal friend, the promises barred everyway he turned…till his eyes fell on Lucius and the world snapped back into focus.

“It is true I am close to Potter, and I believe,” Ron drew a breath, “I believe death is too good for him. I know –know something that would…hurt him more.” Ron tried to sound confident and in control as if he knew where he was going and wasn’t firing in the dark.

“Oh?” Voldemort’s voice was a question with maybe a hint of malicious amusement. That voice made Ron break out in a sweat, but he plunged on.

“Potter is…close to Draco Malfoy. Kill him and Potter will die of grief.” Ron explained his plan. He knew he couldn’t kill Harry, but Malfoy was another deal completely. He watched Lucius for any sign as his son was mentioned. Lucius’ lips just snarled silently. The expression was so similar to that of Malfoy’s in their school days that Ron thought it might be genetic. Maybe hatred was too. Just looking at Lucius brought up his hatred of Malfoy. Malfoy had come in and taken Harry away. He had just batted his eyelashes –or something- and Harry had moved over and Ron had been kicked off like last weeks garbage. Only Hermione really cared. And she was enough, and too much at the same time. He wanted her attention, but not like the mother she posed, chiding and dropping by just to make sure he was eating his vegetables. It was all Malfoy’s fault.

“You are clever, loyal follower. Kill two birds with one stone.” Voldemort spoke after a small silence of thought. “And this will solve a problem for me. I couldn’t allow him to live: the deepest betrayal is running.” Voldemort turned his glance to Lucius at this last bit. Lucius flinched almost imperceptivity and shrank slightly. _Coward_ Ron thought, but then who was he to really say.

“I’m sorry my Lord. The boy was beyond me. I always knew he wasn’t any good. I did try; you must believe me my Lord!” Voldemort eyed the man with cold contempt.

“It is no fault of yours the boy grew to be a traitor, but he will see that no one crosses Lord Voldemort. Let this be a lesson to all of you.” Voldemort let his gaze sweep the ring of Death Eaters.

“Now” He hissed across the hush. “Let our plans become reality. It is time to show your loyalty. The last ascent has begun!”

 

**Eight**

**Alley**

_Don't think there are no crocodiles because the water is calm._

_Malayan Proverb_

Draco sipped his morning coffee, it was ten in the morning, but his shop opened at ten thirty so he didn’t really have to rush. It was nice being independently wealthy, and the shop did bring in a good bit, and Harry’s job could support them by itself, they weren’t in any dire economic straits.

Harry had already left for work and Hermione was easing back into her own routine. She said she was going to move out in a few weeks even though Harry offered to put her up for a few more months, rest of her life if she really wanted. Harry was gregarious and enjoyed company. Draco understood though, he knew what it was like to loose a parent, even if not to death. A bird must learn to fly. It just sped up the process and made you want to fly quicker, just to prove you can.

Draco finished his coffee and stacked the mug in the dishwasher, surveying the kitchen and looking for anything to perfect. It was all in order. He brushed his teeth and ran a comb several times through his hair. Draco didn’t know if his hair was an improvement or not. Harry was quiet glad to throw away the gel, but Draco wasn’t always so sure. But it was a way of letting go. His gel-headed days were that of a slightly different person. His new life vs. the old. So now his hair was like the rest of the populations, except for the bright white-blond color. He grabbed his keys from the key bowl, and a jacket and left the house, calling a last goodbye to the kitten lounging on the window sill.

Outside the day was turning out to be gorgeous. Blue sky that was deep and welcoming like a bright clear, tropical ocean, with few white caps, the air was sweet and warm and spoke of the coming of summer. Draco breathed in deep taking in the perfume of the flowers and the sweetness of the day. He closed his eyes to bask in the sun a moment, the opened them and began the walk to the store. It wasn’t all that far, and he knew the shortcuts. He could get there only slightly less quickly then the bus, it was too lovely a day not to take advantage of it.

Draco was walking down one of the back alleys when he heard a sound. He paid it no attention assuming it was made by someone’s pet. But he took notice as soon as he was hit from behind by a spell. It was a botched spell, but a dark one. Draco knew immediately that this was an attack on his life. And he wasn’t able to move. He was feeling pain all over. Like little flames eating into his flesh. A figure moved over to him. He couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. He was frozen, paralyzed and in pain and he couldn’t even move his eyes. He tried to breath, it was immensely hard. He was just glad the caster hadn’t cast the spell properly.

The caster was now in his line of sight. The red head bent closer to him, close enough for Draco to make out the familiar features and freckles. This caused his breath to whoosh out of him, startling Ron, who was leaning over him.

“Ron!” Draco wheezed staring at Ron’s arms, which were uncovered, and right in his line of sight because he was lying on his side and Ron was kneeling. The dark mark was vividly burned into his retinas. He almost didn’t believe it. Ron? Why, and how, could Ron do that? “I always suspected you… can’t believe that Harry trusted you, can’t believe you betrayed him like this.” Draco forced himself to say. It was getting harder to breath, much less speak. The spell was beginning to truly take affect. In a few moments he would no longer be able to breath, and then he would suffocate, and if not helped, die.

“I haven’t betrayed Harry” Ron said, his voice was angry, haughty. Draco was revolted; maybe it wasn’t just some fluke, maybe Ron really had switched over. What else would explain this, or the angry tone of his voice?

“The deepest betrayal is running _to Voldemort_ , even I know that. You’re no better than I was.” Draco forced himself to say, he was feeling dizzy even though he was lying on the ground. The world spun, growing darker and darker.

“Harry won’t know” Ron murmured as he watched as Draco struggled to breath, and eventually, did not draw the next breath.

 

**Nine**

**Missing**

_The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart._

_Saint Jerome_

Harry returned home to an empty house. This wasn’t right; Draco was usually home before him. There was no note about where Draco might be, just an empty dark house. Harry walked into the kitchen sure he’d see some note there, why would one leave a note in a hallway? There was none. He rushed to the bedroom. Maybe Draco had just fallen asleep. No body was there. Harry began running, checking all the rooms of the house, almost frantic. He called as he ran, this woke the kitten, and she appeared to twine around his ankles when he slowed down to a stop in the living room. There was no one in the house. What could have happened? He was tempted to file a missing person report, but he didn’t know how long Draco had been gone. Maybe he was just out for a few minutes. He waited and waited a bit more. Nobody came.

Harry waited impatiently for the operator to pick up. He finally got through after a time that seemed like hours.

“I would like to file a missing person report.” He said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Just as Harry was saying this, the door opened, Harry rushed out, but it was only Hermione, hanging her coat on the empty coat rack. Harry still hadn’t taken his off. He held up a finger telling her to wait.

“Draco Malfoy’s his name, about 5’ 10”, white blond hair, short cut, pale skin, gray eyes. He went to work this morning, and when I got home he wasn’t here, he’s never not home before me. I waited around a while and he hasn’t come home. It’s not like him to just not come.” Harry told the woman on the other end. He was afraid she totally disregard him, but she paused a moment.

“I’ll check the list to see if anyone of that description has been brought in. If not, I’ll file a report. You sound like you know what you’re talking about. Don’t worry. It will be all fine. If he doesn’t show up within the next four hours we’ll do something.”

Harry thanked her, gave the number which to call when she checked the list and talked with whomever she needed to, and hung up. Harry sank down to the floor, staring at the floor. Hermione looked worriedly at him and sat down next to him.

“He wasn’t home, where’d he go?” Harry turned helpless eyes on Hermione. If Hermione had had any doubts about Harry’s feelings all she would have to do was look at that face.

The phone rang. Harry immediately answered it; his face lit, then fell to a deep worry and concern.

“I’m coming, where is he?” Harry was pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“Yes, thanks, right. Thank you.” He hung up and handed the phone to Hermione, leaving for his car. Hermione placed the phone on the floor, hopping the kitten wouldn’t destroy it and raced after Harry.

“Why are you coming?” Harry asked, preoccupied with getting out of the house as fast as possible.

“Because he’s my friend.” Hermione said, a bit forcefully, “And I need to make sure you don’t kill yourself speeding trying to get to wherever it is we’re going.” She added for good measure.

“We’re going to the hospital.” Harry said quietly, before flooring the gas and driving at the speed limit.

They arrived in the hospital a little while later. Hermione was worried about Harry storming in and scaring the poor nurses on duty, but he was actually quite civil, though you could see how distressed he was.

They were led immediately to a white walled hospital room. There was a bed in the center of it, white sheets pale against the pale white skin and light blond hair. There were a few things hooked up to the young man lying there. Something monitoring heart beat, which was steady, thankfully. And then an oxygen tent over the bed and Draco. This did put fear in Harry.

“What’s that over him” He asked the nurse who had led them to the room, looking worriedly through the clear plastic.

“An oxygen tent. He wasn’t breathing when we found him, we couldn’t figure out why, but we did get him to breath again. Half an hour on the iron lung and he was breathing freely again. An amazing recovery, but he’s in there just to be sure, not breathing as good as we’d like.

“Is he awake?”

“Not at the moment, he opened his eyes earlier, murmured something like ‘Oh no’ and sunk back into this half sleep.

The nurse left them then, saying she was going to get the main doctor who had been taking care of Draco. They were quite happy to know who he was. No on e had been able to identify him. In the area he had been found and the area around it no one had been able to recognize him.

The doctor entered not that long after the nurse left. The doctor made a few checks of machinery, and then turned to Harry and Hermione.

“We’re going to remove the oxygen tent. He’s breathing normal. Just like someone asleep. He should wake up soon. You won’t be able to take him home for a while, we have to make sure everything’s alright. If we could I would like to know what caused this. It’s so different; I’ve never seen it before.

Harry felt a sense of relief as soon as the oxygen tent was removed. As if more then just a physical barrier was being removed. He immediately flew to the side of the bed, taking one of the limp hands there in his, murmuring soothingly. The doctor raised and eyebrow and looked at Hermione.

“Only four years of marriage under their belts.” She explained. The doctor smiled and nodded, turning to Harry he said.

“You’ll both be ok. This is a bit confusing, but nothing that can’t be explained and fixed.” The doctor smiled even wider as Draco rolled his head toward Harry, his eyes opening slightly. “There you go, it’ll all be fine.” Harry smiled at Draco, stroking his hand.

“I leave you for now. You’re welcome to stay the night. We can get a nurse to bring you a pillow.” The doctor said, pointing at a chair by the bed. Harry nodded and took up the seat. Hermione hung around for a few more hours, but then left for home. Harry fell asleep holding Draco’s hand and smiling. Questions would come in the morning.

As it turned out, the doctors wouldn’t let Draco leave the next day, nor the one after that. They were very concerned; they hadn’t been able to find any reason for the abrupt loss of breathing. Draco was no help. He wouldn’t tell anyone, not even Harry, who sat by his bed side night and day on end, passing up meals and sleep to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again. Hermione watched this, seeing Harry looking like a refugee, dirty hair and rings of tired ness under his eyes. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She charged into the hospital room where Draco was being kept and kicked Harry out, driving him back to the house despite his protests, and tucking him into bed. His eyelids drooped almost immediately and he fell asleep, protests still trickling off his lips.

“I have to be there for him, what if it happens again, what if he’s finally willing to talk. I won’t be able to sleep while he might be hurt…” His eyes closed and he fell into deep fitful sleep.

Hermione drove back to the hospital, letting herself quietly into the room. Draco was awake. Even though he was being kept under supervision at the hospital Draco was feeling normal. He was just like usual, except he was more quiet, not depressed, but Hermione didn’t know how to describe it, it just wasn’t normal. Draco watched her and she sat down in Harry’s usual chair.

“Where’d he go?” Draco asked. “Did he finally go home? He really needs to eat and get some sleep.”

“Yes.” Hermione smiled softly “He didn’t want to of course. Protested the whole way.”

“Sounds just like him.” Draco murmured softly.

“Why don’t you tell him what happened. It can’t’ be that bad. IT hurts him so much that you’re keeping something from him. It’s painfully obvious this had to do with magic and he doesn’t know what to think.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” Draco played with the pristine white sheets “This might hurt him more.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked, “You have to tell somebody. I understand you can’t tell the doctors, but you can at least tell me.”

“It might hurt you too. You probably won’t believe it.” Draco muttered.

“Try me.” Hermione challenged. So Draco did, and Hermione almost didn’t believe it, but she trusted Draco. She would have to go talk to Ron. She thanked Draco for telling her. Unsure weather to encourage him talking to Harry, it was something that would hurt him, but was this secrecy hurting him more?

 

**Ten**

**Confrontation**

_"Honor isn't about making the right choices. It's about dealing with the consequences."_

_Koto Midori_

Hermione rapped sharply on Ron’s apartment door. He appeared after only a few moments of time lag, opening the door and giving her a questioning look.

“Is it true?” Hermione demanded.

“What true?” Ron had an edge to his voice and Hermione was sure he knew she knew and was going to ask.

“That you’re a Death Eater?” Hermione glared at him. Ron sort of hung his head and shrugged, moving aside so she could enter. Hermione stormed in, a billow of black air electricity and storm cloud. Ron watched her stomp and fume. He could almost imagine her bushy hair giving off sparks, her eyes certainly did.

“I can’t believe you!” she cursed, “just can’t believe you! Why would you do something like that?” Ron tried to explain, assuage her anger, but nothing he said helped. She just looked at him as if he was something nasty, something she’d never really seen before, something she wouldn’t care to look at again.

“I don’t believe it, you knew better then that.” she muttered. It pained Ron to see her look so ashamed of him. “You aren’t the person I fell in love with” she murmured aloud to herself. The slight sound snapped Ron’s head up.

“What?” Hermione was looking at him, past him, starring off into time. Her face was so sad.

It’s irrelevant now. The person I loved no longer exists.” Hermione suddenly snapped out of her trance of thought, turning her eyes back to Ron’s face with a vengeance. Her moment of sad tranquility was gone as if it was only a brief ray of sunlight in a rainstorm. “To hurt Draco just to get back at Harry. To go so low! I expected better, Ron, I really did. Harry and Draco are not speaking now, because Draco doesn’t want to hurt Harry with the truth. I used to think it was bad when they kissed at dinner, but this is ten times worse.” She was glaring again; Ron wasn’t sure if he liked this Hermione or the deeply saddened lost in thought Hermione. Both pained him to see. He tried to bolster himself, make the blame slide away.

“This is all your fault! You started everything- I wanted you to think-” Ron tried, but the accusation died on his lips, Hermione was looking at him, expression livid.

“How is this _my_ fault?!” she snarled. Ron looked at her and knew exactly where the blame rested. He sank down into one of the chairs in the living room where they stood. Hermione seemed to realize that he knew. Her gaze softened, if only minutely.

“Go to Harry.” She said gently, coming to kneel down beside the chair. Her eyes were imploring and Ron tried not to look at her.

“I can’t” his voice was strained there were tears not far away he knew, he tried to stave them off. “Harry hates me.”

“Harry doesn’t _know_. That’s the whole problem.” Hermione sounded frustrated now. Ron turned to look at her a question in his face.

“If Harry doesn’t know, how do you know?”

“Draco told me. The spell you did didn’t take Muggle doctors into account. Thanks to fast work Draco’s still around.” Hermione looked a bit smug. Ron grimaced; he had failed on all fronts. What would Voldemort say? And he couldn’t go to Harry, surely not now.

“I can’t” He said again, and there were tears this time. Hermione softened even more. Taking his hand and looking at him with deep sad eyes.

“Come back with me. Tell Harry, he’ll listen, he’ll understand, he does have forgiveness, but it won’t be around for ever.” she stood, pulling Ron up with her. “Come on.”

Hermione’s bike was leaning against the side of the building, Hermione wasn’t sure they’d fit, but she climbed on and Ron squeezed in behind her. She pushed up the kickstand and took to the street. Ron clung to her as if for dear life and Hermione felt a twinge of…something, though she really couldn’t say what. Then a small timid voice came from behind her.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“What did I say?”

“That I wasn’t the person you fell in love with.” Ron’s voice was small and fragile, hopeful too it seemed. Hermione was perplexed, where was the conversation going?

“So?”

“Were you in love with me?” Hermione thought a moment, the poor lost boy riding behind her, wishing on her words. Had she really been in love with him, there had been a time, but…

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter any more- you’ve changed too much.” Hermione pulled into Harry and Draco’s drive way, parking the bike along the side of the house and taking out her keys.

 

**Eleven**

**Conversation**

_Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee and just as hard to sleep after._

_Anne Morrow Lindbergh_

It had been two or so days since Draco had been allowed out of the hospital. Hermione could feel the tension as she and Ron entered the house. Draco hadn’t told Harry. Harry had tried to understand, tried to help. But it was just getting too much for him. He felt there was something wrong and there was nothing he could do. And Draco wasn’t letting him help. So Harry was resentful of almost everything. He was off from work due to some clause about spouses and sickness. Draco just didn’t want to talk about it, and it was all Harry wanted to talk about so the two of them were left hanging. Harry would go off and sulk, which he had been doing in the upstairs office, refusing to come down, even for meals. Hermione had been leaving his meals outside the closed door. And Draco was clearly taking a toll from all this. It was just not a very nice situation.

Hermione motioned for Ron to wait at the door. She peered into the living room. Draco had taken it over for his own now that Harry was up stairs and neither of them wanted to be in the bed room.

“So where’s Harry?” Hermione asked of Draco, who was petting the cat and staring off into space. Draco’s eyes snapped to her and Hermione could see the depth of pain that was being caused there. She tried to suppress an impulse to go out into the corridor and bring Ron in, force him to look in those eyes, see what he had done, and then throttle him.

“Sulking in his room. He won’t come out” Draco said bleakly.

Hermione decided to cut to the chase. “I brought Ron.” She said. Draco’s back stiffened and he sat bolt upright.

“You WHAT?!?!” He looked aghast. “Are you insane?”

“You should at least listen to what he has to say.” Draco stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “Look, this isn’t easy for him either.” Draco raised an eyebrow at that. Hermione gave him a small glare “I’m not making excuses- I’m just-”

“Making excuses.” He finished with a rye smile. Hermione was glad to see it, though it looked wan and pale on his face. _Oh I hope this works out all right_ she hoped.

“Stop it. Humor is appreciated, but this is important. Get Harry.”

“Actually, you should do that.” Draco said glumly, his smile fading.

“Why?” Draco gestured towards himself.

“Because, he’s not talking to me.”

“That bad, huh? Usually he can’t keep his eyes off you.” Hermione smiled slightly, trying to joke.

“I know.” Draco said, grabbing for a dramatic air, trying to make a comedy out of it all. Hermione could see the little bits of mask slipping, but Draco was holding it together better then Hermione might have herself. Draco smirked at her fond expression and proved that he was at least mostly himself on some level, “But I’m taken.”

“Shut up. I actually don’t want you, you oaf.” Hermione pretended to swat at him. He smiled and the smile was more real. Hermione hoped it kept getting better, now to get Harry down here with Draco so everything could be sorted out.

Draco got a mischievous look and Hermione immediately knew she was going to have to keep him from saying the next sentence.

“I know. You want-” she clamped her hand over his mouth, his eyes cackled gleefully at her and his hands waved towards the hall and waiting Ron. Hermione glared at him and hissed,

“Don’t you dare, I think he’s listening.” In fact Ron was listening; he was also quiet red in the face. So Hermione did like someone. He wondered who it could be; he hoped it wasn’t too late. He restrained an urge to peek around the corner and look into the living room to see what was going on. It was getting a bit silent. And then Hermione’s voice drifted over too him.

“Well I guess I’ll go get Harry.”

**Twelve**

**Explanation**

_Forgiveness is the healing of wounds caused by another. You choose to let go of a past wrong and no longer be hurt by it. Forgiveness is a strong move to make, like turning your shoulders sideways to walk quickly on a crowded sidewalk. It's your move._

_-Real Live Preacher_

They all sat on separate chairs in the living room. Draco was in one with the cat on his lap. Hermione was in the rocker, Harry was perched on a stool dragged in from the kitchen and Ron was in the chair twin to the big couch-type Draco was sitting in. Hermione cleared her throat looking pointedly at Ron and waiting for him to begin. So Ron did. He told the whole story, laying it out as time would have gone. He watched Harry’s face darken and collect an angry countenance. When he had just gotten to the Dark Mark bit Harry jumped up. He was obviously making connections.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” He yelled. Ron tried not to shrink under his friend’s red-hot glare. Harry walked across the room so that he was slightly in front of Draco, his face very protective.

“You’re the one that did this aren’t you!?” Harry was getting more angry building on his anger. “How could you, you know how much that would hurt me. That was-”

“Harry.” Draco’s soft voice cut across Harry’s. Draco tugged on Harry’s shirt looking tired and vaguely annoyed. “You’re hurting my ears, _and_ you’re in my line of sight so I can’t see Ron _and_ you _really_ aught to calm down a bit.” Harry looked absolutely overjoyed for a second, his face so happy that he had gotten some response out of Draco. That emotion was quickly followed by others; he stood there a moment, silent. Then picked Draco up and sat back down with Draco on his lap curled up next to him in the chair. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. One hurtle crossed. Now for the next.

“Stop. You don’t know his side- the blame is on all of us.” Hermione spoke, the voice of reason. Ron looked gratefully at Hermione and started over again. He told his story fully and completely, and then waited.

Harry looked sad. “Why?” Ron glanced to Hermione. She nodded encouragement. Harry was still watching Ron and only Draco the look.

“I was so alone, I was pissed at you guys, and then I got drunk… I had met this guy who told me I could be powerful- more so than you, Harry. I promised to help him. I swore to help him.” Ron looked at the floor, the back up, but not at Harry. His eyes seemed be drawn over towards Hermione, begging her forgiveness as well as Harry’s. Draco had to hide a smile. He looked at Ron then to Hermione, then back again, it was almost as if there was a little line connecting them that his eyes could trace. He grinned; turning so only Harry could see the look. Then he switched his eyes back to the two and looked pointedly from one to the other. Ron and Hermione didn’t notice; they were too busy looking at each other.

“I feel my matchmaking personality coming on.” Draco whispered to Harry. Harry suppressed a chuckle.

Ron dropped his eyes from Hermione and back to the floor. “It really wasn’t my fault” he murmured, almost as if to himself

“Of course not. You just wanted to impress the girl.” Draco sniggered, Harry nudged him and Draco grinned. Ron went beet red. It was a color that Harry had perfected but Ron wasn’t as used to. Hermione only raised an eyebrow. Draco snorted.

“Hah. I knew it.” Harry snorted this time. He and Draco exchanged a look with almost identical evil grins.

“What are you guys talking about?” Hermione asked, trying to get in on the joke but Draco just teased her.

“Ron will tell you later.”

Harry was smiling around at everyone, cradling Draco in his arms. Things had definitely gotten better. There was only one problem left in their way.

“Ron, we’ll do whatever we can to help you. We’re you friends.” Harry said earnestly.

“And for once, I have to agree with his stupid Gryffindor mentality.” Draco ragged, snuggling closer to Harry.

“Hey, what was that?” Harry said playing a pouty expression. “Snake!”

“It’s my nature.” Draco smiled beguilingly, cuddling against Harry’s chest.

“Some times I wonder…” Harry murmured into Draco’s hair, “why I love you.”

“Fate, my personality, some higher powers decision, my good looks, because you couldn’t live with all this unresolved sexual tension, because I love you too?” Draco supplied. Harry shook his head and leaned in to kiss Draco.

“Probably all of the above.” Harry sighed.

Hermione looked at the two, dismayed. Part of her was calling. ‘Get a room!’ another was saying ‘Awwww’ but most of her was just really happy they’d made up. It was her turn to trade a ‘back-to-this-again’ look with Ron. She jumped up out of her chair and declared to the room,

“I’ll do some research.” Ron nodded, but the other half of the room was rather preoccupied.

“You know what, I think I’ll help you.” said Ron, taking it as a way out, so Harry and Draco did get a room of their own. But it was only because everyone else –but the cat who was trying to figure out how she could get a lap to sit on out of the love-fest –had left.

And they did do research, but they found nothing. A week went by. There were no summons from Voldemort, but try as they might they just couldn’t find an answer. And everyone could feel the weight of each passing second bearing down.

“Sorry guys- I just think that there’s no way to get rid of it. I’m so sorry for handing you my problem.” Ron was dejected, they had tried so hard but he felt he was at the end of his supply of hope. Hermione didn’t even look up from the book she was riffling through looking for mention of something that might help them. They had steadily been narrowing the amount of information useful, but she wasn’t about to give in yet.

“It’s _not_ your problem! It’s all of our problem. We all care about you. You can’t do this by yourself. If you just ask, I’ll always be there to help you- we’re friends.”“But-” Said Ron weakly, his sentence trailing off as Hermione looked up glaring, daring him to continue his protestation.

“That’s what friends are for.” Harry said, entering with a stack of books. He deposited them on the table and took the first one off the stack and handed it to Ron who took it but his smile was far from his face. Draco looked up from his own book, where he was seated across the room with the cat on his lap.

“If you can’t defeat it, fight it.”

 

**Thirteen**

**Pain**

_You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don't try._

_Beverly Sills_

The weeks continued to pass with no luck. And then the call Ron was dreading came. His arm burned, the black mark scorching his skin. Everyone was out. Harry was at work, Draco too. Hermione had run to the store, and Ron had stayed home to read a book. But his arm hurt too much for him to even think straight. He only kept one thought in mind, _resist_. He did so, but the pain was enormous. He didn’t know if he would be able to hold out, to survive. He crumpled out of the chair, clutching his forearm, curled in a tight fetal ball on the floor. He screamed silently. He would not, he would not, he would not.

Hermione came back to the house and called for Ron to come help her with the groceries. Nobody answered. She waited a second, maybe he was asleep, but no one came. She dropped her bag, to hell with the eggs. And ran into the living room where he’d been reading. And he was still there, at least physically, but the sight was not one to calm Hermione’s nerves. In fact it frightened her more. She dropped to her knees beside him, his eyes were wide and his mouth open, his jaw taunt and throat choked in a scream. His eyes rolled wildly. They fell to her for a second and she thought she saw recognition, fear, but over all of it was pain. She could almost feel the pain emanating of him. She leaned down, drawing him partly into her lap. Holding him and rocking back and forth murmuring mindless nonsense to keep him there, keep him sane, if she could. “I’m here, I’m here. It will pass; I won’t let it hurt you. I won’t let you go. Your safe, just ignore it.” She knew she was lying she knew it probably hurt worse then anything else, she knew it might not be ok, but she was saying these things these little white lies so that they could both be safe.

Eventually, after a time longer then Hermione would have thought possible, Ron stopped shaking and screaming. His eyes began to drift closed, he only whimpered a little. Hermione soothed and rocked, stroking his hair, singing random cords, part of a tune to a childhood lullaby. Eventually Ron fell asleep. His body was so exhausted from the resistance, so tried and taxed by the pain. Hermione thought it was a good thing for him, and didn’t bother to wake him. But she wasn’t very comfortable, so she heaved and hoed and picked him up, dragging him over to the big chair that Draco and Harry usually claimed for their own. She deposited Ron into it, then climbed in around him, laying her head against his chest, for some reason she was strangely tired.

Harry and Draco arrived back that the house at almost the same time. Draco hadn’t been able to find his keys, so was quiet happy to have Harry open the door for him, but they were greeted in the hall by a bag full of broken eggs and broccoli. Harry looked worriedly at Draco and they raced into the living room. To their surprise Ron was asleep, and Hermione was asleep as well, curled up next to him, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder. Harry raised an eyebrow, but Draco had an almost sad look, he pointed to Ron’s arm which hung over one of the arms on the chair, the Dark mark was livid and stark on the skin, it was usually dark, but not that shade of deep black, like a newly made brand. Harry looked and Draco nodded. At least Ron had resisted.

 

**Fourteen**

**Snape**

_To know the road ahead, ask those coming back._

_Chinese Proverb_

Hermione was worried, Harry could tell from looking at her face the next morning over breakfast. Ron was picking at his toast without much gusto. Harry glanced at Draco who was enjoying his usual cup of coffee and the newspaper as he did every morning. Harry looked back to Hermione who was distracted enough that she was using marmalade. Hermione didn’t like marmalade and thought Draco was disgusting for eating it. She took a bite, and made a face. She looked down at her bread and her face hardened into a firm line.

“Ron,” She said, looking at him with forcefully concentrated eyes. “You can’t do this alone. We’ve been trying for weeks to find an answer. We haven’t. There’s only one other person who might be able to help us.” She took a breath. “We need to talk to Snape.”

Ron jerked up from his bread picking. “Are you insane, Snape … Snape … he … What are you thinking?!”

“You need help. All you try, you can’t do it on your own. Nobody could. There must be an answer. We haven’t found it so maybe he can help us. He has been able to resist it. Maybe he’ll have some tips or something, if not a cure.”

“Hermione.” Ron looked pleadingly at her, then shifting his eyes around to Harry, who offered no consolation, and to Draco who unhelpfully put in.

“Snape’s not to bad a guy. He might be able to help.”

“Ron!” Hermione said scandalized, but Draco just laughed,

“Seems like Weasel here holds a grudge. Not a problem.”

“Draco, be nice.” Harry scolded. Draco gave him puppy eyes and though Harry tried to keep a straight face his smile slipped through. He and Draco leaned in towards each other.

“Um…guys?” Hermione called their attention.

“What?” Draco said, annoyed, “What do you have against PDAs? Wait this is our house. Why can’t I kiss my husband in my own house?”

“Because we have a schedule, and kissing is not on the ‘to do’ list.” Hermione snapped. Draco grinned and Harry braced himself.

“Why Bushy Brains, I didn’t know you objected so much, I guess I’ll just have to kiss you next time, I didn’t know you felt so excluded.”

“Hey!” Harry lightly smacked Draco on the shoulder. “You’re mine; you can’t go around kissing my best friends.” Draco smiled at Harry,

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Besides I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate it, she’d much rather be receiving kisses fro-“

“Alright you two. Eat up. We need to move it.” Hermione cut Draco off.

Ron looked around the table, trying to figure out how exactly he fit in. He really didn’t want to go to Snape, but it didn’t look like he had much choice. Hermione was set on it, and when she was set on it she had a way of plowing over all barriers in the way. Ron wasn’t as disturbed as he thought he might have been seeing Draco and Harry acting the way they were. He realized that he had never really bothered to think that they might really care about each other. He had just thought that Malf–no Draco–had come in and taken Harry away from him, but Ron had never really had Harry in that way, and wouldn’t want to. No, that wasn’t what he wanted. His eyes and mind wandered to the only female, besides the kitten. Hermione was eating the bread and expressing her disgust on her face. Draco was laughing at her,

“Why don’t you just throw it away?” He asked. She looked primly at him,

“It would be a waste. There are people starving in Africa.”

“And therefore you have to kill yourself by marmalade?” She stuck her tongue out at him. Ron wished he had Draco’s easiness with Hermione. But he couldn’t, just like Draco couldn’t be the same to Harry as Ron was, Ron could not be the same with Hermione as Draco was. He knew what this meant, had known a while, but he didn’t bring the words to his lips. They lingered, lost in his mind. Afraid.

Harry felt rather awkward standing on Snape’s front porch, he could tell Ron was feeling more out of place then he was. Hermione had that stubborn look on her face, and Draco was beaming. Draco was looking forward to seeing his God father. Harry cringed at that word. Sirius was no longer among the living. He had been buried along with the others that died during Voldemort’s uprising in sixth year. It had been lethal to the Order, cutting its numbers to the quick. And then when Dumbledore died, naturally, only a year later when the Order had not fully rebuilt… Harry was just glad that Voldemort had been given a serious set back in Sixth year. He hadn’t been able to strike the Order while they were at their weakest, even though he would have wanted to.

Snape came to the door and Draco smiled. “Open up, it’s us!” Snape raised an eyebrow at the ‘us’, he knew Harry and his god son were married, but Granger and Weasley?

“Come in.” He beckoned. They all filed in. Hermione looked as if she was on a mission and only death would stop her. Ron was looking around nervously and Harry seemed amused. “You obviously didn’t come here just for a visit Draco, although that would have been appreciated.”

“True, though that’s a good idea, I’ll have to come torture you just for fun one of these days.” Draco smirked with a little bit of mischievousness. “But you are right; we didn’t come here completely for pleasure. You see Weasley here has gotten himself into a bit of a predicament, and we haven’t been able to come up with anything in our collective brains that could be useful.”

“We thought you could help.” Hermione stated.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “And this problem is?”

“Ron” Hermione muttered, nudging him. He rolled up his sleeve. Snape drew in a breath.

“Come into the living room, we’ll have some tea and you’ll tell me just what the hell has been going on.”

Harry sat down on the love seat; Draco plunked down beside him and leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry noticed with bemusement how Snape raised an eyebrow and seemed to be fighting a quirk of a smile. Ron took an armchair and Hermione the rocker. Snape took another armchair twin to Ron’s.

“Tell.” Snape prompted. Ron took a breath and told the story. Snape to his credit, held still the whole time, even when Ron told of almost killing his godson, listening. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and rested his lips gently on the top of Draco’s head.

“Well, you have gotten yourself into a mess haven’t you.” Snape’s voice had a sadly remorseful quality, Harry hadn’t expected from him for Ron. Sympathy. “And so you’ve come to me in search of wisdom, or a cure.” Snape shook his head. “There is one cure, of a kind. Nothing can destroy the bond, but there is a pain numbing potion that is activated by the Mark.” Hermione looked hopeful. Ron nodded for Snape to go on.

“It takes a few weeks to make, but I can make it. But you must know, once you’ve taken it, it’s forever, side affects and all.”

“And those are.” Ron prompted quietly.

“When ever you are called the pain will be great, the potion will kick in and knock you flat cold. You will not feel any pain, but whenever you are called you’ll be out like a light. It lasts only an hour or so. Do you want fainting spells the rest of your life?”

“No.” Ron said, vaguely put out. “Is there no other way? Why does it do that?”

“It knocks you out so you won’t be able to apparate to His side, and so you feel no pain. The other way is pain. You can resist and spend your life resisting. I have done that, I know others who have taken the potion, and a few who have taken other ways out. But I highly doubt that you want to go over to Him and you do not seem to have any wish to meet your maker. The choice is yours.”

Ron sat thinking. Hermione looked apprehensive. She glanced around, but she couldn’t seem to hold her words back.

“Ron. Ron, I think you should.” Her eye flicked to Snape “I mean, it would null the pain, and you’d never have to…to worry. I wouldn’t have to worry about your safety. It wouldn’t be too bad. I’m sure if you just tell whoever your working with what to watch for, you could do it. It might be the best way.” Ron looked at her, descent in his eyes. But she looked so distressed. There was hope there. Ron wondered, did she not trust him? He knew better then anyone, except for maybe Snape and Malfoy, and probably Harry too, that going to Voldemort was a bad idea.

“I guess it would be ok if we started making the potion, I’ll have a few weeks to think about it.” He knew his voice didn’t sound like a man who’d found the cure he’d like. Snape seemed to sense this, but he glanced at Hermione and then nodded.

“I’d be happy to start making it. I don’t get enough company and it will bring you back here.” Snape tried a smile, Ron was startled by it. It didn’t look terribly nasty, almost genuine.

Snape showed them to the door. Draco hugged him good bye. Harry smiled and shook his hand. The Granger gave an odd sort of bow and small smile of gratitude. Then there was Weasley. Ron looked so lost and afraid, out of it. Snape saw some tinny bit of himself looking out though the boy’s eyes. He clasped Ron’s forearms, staring into Ron’s eyes, willing Ron to hear him, understand him.

“We all make mistakes, it is life’s way of testing us, and we determine who we are by how we react to those mistakes. Those who give up and stop trying rendering themselves weak, those who get up again and again will keep getting up and one time they will stand. And they will be those who always come out on top. You can do this. Good luck go with you.” Ron looked a bit bewildered, but somewhere in his eyes there was gratefulness. He nodded and turned, following his friends out to the street. Ron paused at the door to the car, looking back up at the house where Snape was standing. Snape raised his hand, not waving it, but a still, steady gesture. Ron suddenly felt as if he _could_ do this. He raised his hand in return, smiling at Snape, and then climbing in the car. It wasn’t impossible. Snape was living proof of that.

 

Fifteen

**Decision**

_But pain... seems to me an insufficient reason not to embrace life. Being dead is quite painless. Pain, like time, is going to come on regardless. Question is, what glorious moments can you win from life in addition to the pain?_

_Lois McMaster Bujold_

Ron thought about whether or not to take the potion for a few weeks, but when the time rolled around, he was still not ready to make his decision. Hermione was all for it, but in his gut Ron didn’t feel as if it was right. It was the night before they were going back to Snape’s and Ron would have to choose. Harry was sitting in a chair, finger combing Draco’s fine blond hair while Draco read softly to him from their joint book. Hermione was lying on the floor with a book and the cat on her back. Ron stood in the doorway to the living room, trying to make up his mind. What would he say, what would he do.

“Are you going to stand their all night?” came Harry’s amused voice as he beckoned Ron into the room. Ron smiled back at Harry and tentatively stepped into the room. The rocker was empty for once, because Hermione was on the floor, and he sat there. He stared off into space until Draco called him out of his reverie.

“Made your decision yet?” Hermione’s head came up at this question too.

“Yes Ron, what have you decided?” Ron toyed with the hem of his sleeve.

“I’m not sure.”

“But it’s tomorrow Ron!” Hermione protested.

“I know, I know. But that still doesn’t make it any easier. I don’t want to be at others mercy my whole life, a burden because I’m liable to faint at any time. I mean, who could get a good job with that problem.”

“We could watch over you” Hermione suggested. “You could be a handy man or something and one of us could…I dunno, be with you at all times.”

“That’s stupid Herm, and you know it.” Ron said, “Besides I don’t want a keeper and that wouldn’t be any fun for any of you. Whatever I do I have to handle for the rest of my life.” Ron sounded dejected. He looked back down at his shirtsleeve; it was unraveling, his watch showing through beneath.

“Look at the time,” He exclaimed. “If I want to get any sleep, which I probably won’t, we all aught to hit the hay now. Early rise tomorrow.” Ron got up, shoving himself out of the chair and to the door. He stopped to wave goodnight to the lovebirds and Hermione. The kitten yawned at him and Hermione smiled. Draco looked worried and Harry looked at Draco. Ron sighed and headed up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

The next day came too soon for Ron, but Hermione was ready. She was sure this potion was the answer, it would keep him safe. She beamed encouragement. Harry was puttering around the kitchen making an omelet when she came up to the table. Draco was buried, as usual in the paper, but his eyes kept flicking to Ron, worried. He looked at her to as she entered. She smiled at him and turned to Ron,

“It’s the big day isn’t it?” she pushed some of the toast that Harry had put out on the table towards him. “Eat up, no potions on an empty stomach right?” Ron didn’t look as enthusiastic, but she knew he would get caught up in it. It was the cure, why wasn’t he happy? She flounced down into her seat and plucked a piece of toast, smiling at Harry as he offered the omelet around the table, nodding that she would have some.

Draco watched Hermione; she obviously thought this was the best way. Ron looked a bit green. Draco could tell Harry was covering his disease. He was offering the omelet, his eyes met Draco’s and Draco could tell he wanted to do something, say something. Harry knew that this wasn’t what Ron would want. Hermione was hell-bent though. Draco smiled sadly back, he was equally confused. Harry sighed and shrugged, dropping a kiss on Draco’s lips as he walked the pan to the sink.

“Ok, eat up quick, we need to leave soon.” Hermione spouted. Draco looked fully up from his paper,

“Hermione, can I talk with you when you’re done?” He asked quietly. She looked confused but nodded. Draco took a sip of his coffee and tried to figure out how to explain that to her that she might be wrong.

“Hermione?” Draco called her wandering attention as soon as they were in the hall away from the table.

“What?” She was puzzled.

“Have you ever thought that this might not the best choice?” Hermione looked shocked.

“What do you mean? How is it not?”

“Have you ever thought Ron might not actually want to take the potion? Did you even bother to really _look_ at him during breakfast?”

“Well- I mean, of course he’s nervous, but he wouldn’t agree to do this if he didn’t want to?”

“Did he ever agree? He said he’s thought, but you’re so hell bent on having this happen, not much will stand in your way. But you aren’t always right.”

“Obviously you think I’m not! You’re clearly trying to stand in the way.” She glared.

“Yes.” said Draco, unruffled by her sparking eyes, “I am. I am because Ron would never deny you, anything.”

“Don’t be ridicules. He has his own mind. If he didn’t want to he could just say so.”

“And you’re reaction would be?” Draco raised one of his aristocratic eyebrows. Hermione didn’t answer him. Her face was draw inward in reflection, putting thoughts together.

“He doesn’t think you trust him.” said another voice. Harry came and pulled one of Draco’s arms around his own waist, looping his other arm over Draco’s shoulders.

“You’re siding with him?” Hermione asked, annoyed and defeated.

“I think he’s probably right. It hurts Ron you know, to think you don’t trust him. He thinks you think he can’t handle himself.”

“But, I…”

“No, Bushy-brains, you don’t mean to seem like that. But you do. He’ll do almost anything for you, as I stated earlier, but he won’t be happy. He takes this potion and it’s the rest of his life. The rest of his life. How would you feel when faced with those prospects? Hmmm?” Hermione looked at them, acknowledging that she wouldn’t want it that way. In defeat her face had fallen and she looked glum.

“Oh come on Hermione, don’t look like that.” Harry protested, dropping his arm from Draco to take hers. “He thinks he can do it, support him. If he can’t keep it up we can use the potion, but give him a chance. Let him prove himself to you.”

“Have a little faith.” Draco chimed in earnestly. Hermione nodded, but she didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Believe. He does.” Draco smiled. Ron came out of the kitchen, a little awkward in the silence of the hall.

“Sorry if I interrupted anything. We should probably go?” His voice didn’t quaver, Draco gave him that. If it had been Draco, well it wasn’t. They all left the house. It was still Ron’s decision and he seemed to be plowing on. Draco hopped that Hermione would think on what he and Harry had said. He looked over at Harry, sitting next to him. Harry reached out his hand and found Draco’s, squeezing it gently. Harry was always so sure of the best. It was one of the things Draco admired about him. They traded a smile. Hermione made a gagging face in the rearview mirror. The light ahead was red and Draco slowed to a stop before leaning over and cupping Harry’s face for a long drawn out kiss.

“Drive!” Hermione called from the back seat. Draco withdrew and did just that, through the now green light.

They reached Snape’s house and climbed out of the car. Ron tried not to show that he was scared. Harry smiled encouragement. Hermione wasn’t looking at him; she seemed to be thinking, studying the wood of the front porch. Snape greeted them, welcoming them into his home.

“What have you decided?”

“Well-” But he wasn’t able to finish.

“Ron, I need to talk to you.” Hermione’s voice was firm, her eyes were brimming with, something, and she was clearly trying to tell him something.

“A moment?” Ron asked. Snape smiled slightly,

“The front porch is private enough I suppose? Draco, Harry would you like some tea perhaps?”

“What is it?” Ron asked as soon as they were gone.

“Well you see… I’ve been thinking,” Hermione paused and looked at him uncertainly a moment before plowing on. “You see, I think that, maybe I’m wrong. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be fainting the rest of my life. Why should you have to? I don’t want you to have to be in pain, but it’s your choice I believe you’ll do what you think is best. You can handle anything. You came back to us. I trust you, do what you have to. I’ll support you no matter what you do. No matter what. I….I’ll” she looked around a moment as if deciding something. “I’ll always be here for you.” then, blushing, she stood on her tiptoes a bit and leaned in to kiss him softly on the cheek. She turned then and ran into the house.

Ron stood on the porch for a few minutes in Hermione’s wake, holding a hand to his cheek. Had she really just kissed him? She trusted him to make his own decisions? He really didn’t want to take that potion, but it might make things easier. It was almost a fifty, fifty coin toss. Ron walked back along the corridor, following the voices into the brightly lit kitchen. There was a picture hanging on the far wall above the table. The lights reflected off it, he could almost see himself, bright red hair, slightly flushed face with a feel of a deeply hidden smile, but his eyes though worried, weren’t sad. Hermione noticed him enter and gave him a small smile. Harry and Draco were bickering lightly as Snape watched amused. Snape looked up.

“Wea- Ron, have you decided?” Ron’s eyebrows shot up at the use of his name. He looked around at the faces. Harry’s open and smiling trust’ Draco’s steady backing and encouragement, the faint hint of comforting smile; Hermione’s self-conscious slight flush, but her beaming smile that told him she _would_ back him through anything; Snape’s of calm waiting with the faint hint of approval, as if he knew what Ron would say. Ron nodded slightly.

“Yes, I know what I’m going to do.”

 

**Epilogue**

**Foot Prints on the Heart**

_Some people come into our lives and quickly go._

_Some people move our souls to dance._   
_They awaken us to a new understanding with the passing whisper of their wisdom._   
_Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon._   
_They stay in our lives for awhile, leave footprints on our hearts,_   
_and we are never, ever the same._   
_Author Unknown_

_  
_

The rows of people crowded the church, wearing their dressy clothes. Harry tugged on the collar of his tux; Draco reached over and stopped his hand.

“You look fine.” Draco smiled, “Plus you aren’t the one getting married.

“Why green? It’s always green?” Harry complained.

“Because you look good in green, and green and blue go well together, we are a couple you know.” Harry gave Draco a smile and a quick kiss before turning back to the carpet between the pews.

“Look, here she comes!” Draco peered past Harry a bit.

Hermione walked steadily down the aisle. She tried not to beam, or start crying. She had good control but the smile slipped through and she smiled widely at everybody, showing off her perfect teeth. Her hair was free since she had decided not to have a veil to go with the white silk and pearl dress. She looked to the end of the corridor between the pews. Her love stood there, his red hair went well with his blue black tux. She smiled specially for him. He smiled back.

It seemed as if it had taken ages for him to get around to popping the question, sometimes she thought she had know her answer from the time four years ago when he had declined to take that potion. Almost as if her thought had summoned it his smile began to grow strained, his hand wandered towards his forearm as if pressure would stop pain. But he jerked his head a bit and gritted his teeth in the semblance of something close to smile.

She tried to walk faster but the organ kept her check. It seemed ages, only a few more seconds really, before she reached the alter. Her hand stretched out and Ron’s met hers. She squeezed, letting him know she knew and that she was _here_. The priest read the vows. There was no doubt in her mind when she agreed.

“I do.”

Ron smiled truly; the pain was pushed back in his eyes. “I do.” He echoed. She leaned in and kissed him, as if to kiss away that pain. _I will always be here. I will always love you._

_Experience suggests it doesn't matter so much how you got here, as what you do after you arrive._

_Lois McMaster Bujold_

  
__


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